


"May I have this dance?"

by notjustmom



Series: Box of 64 [26]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bit of Fluff, Dancing, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Parentlock, angsty, mofftiss season 3 in play, mostly angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-01 20:41:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10929669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: This is a bit more angsty than I normally go, but the next chapters will lighten up...





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock watched as John fussed with his tie for a moment, then sighed as he glanced into the mirror and saw Sherlock observing him.

"It still fits." Sherlock murmured as John turned to face him. He retied the mangled bow tie and tried not to think back to the last time John had worn the suit.

"Yeah. They had to let it out a bit, but not too much -"

"You'll be late if you and Rosie don't leave soon."

"I wish you'd come with us."

"It's a Father/Daughter dance. The three of us can't -"

"Don't. Please?"

"Sorry - it's hard not to -" Sherlock bit his lip and tried to turn away, but John caught his hand.

"I would have thought you would have deleted that long ago-"

Sherlock stared at him and whispered, "John. Do you honestly think I could ever delete anything about you, especially that day? The day I gave you to Mary, the second time I lost you, the day I knew Rosie - I better go see how she is doing."

"Sherlock -"

"It's fine, John."

 

"Da?"

"Need help with the zipper?"

"Yes, please. Are you okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine."

"You should come with us. There was nothing saying only one father was allowed."

Sherlock shook his head as he kept his head down, not wanting her to see his face in the reflection.

"No - I can't, Ro."

She turned around and faced him. "Da? Look at me."

He straightened up and met her eyes, then looked back down at the shoes she had just slipped into, two inch heels, with tiny bows, which made her nearly John's height. "Do you remember the first time you tried on heels?"

She recalled it perfectly, but shook her curls, hoping to make him smile, pull him back from whatever memory was hurting him.

"You were six, and it was raining. We both had colds, you were miserable as hell. Your Papa came home, and saw us, and rolled his eyes. He left the room and returned with the box of my old disguises. There was a pair of the most ridiculous hot pink heels in there, and naturally, you fell in love. I think you actually slept with the damn things for weeks after. You got out of bed for the first time in two days and put your feet in them. Of course you fell over, but you had the biggest smile - " His face changed as it always did, the sadness left his eyes for a brief moment, as he recalled her joy. It still managed to surprise her, how he had perfect recall of everything about her. His face darkened again as he touched her face gently.

"Come with us, please?" Rosie leaned against him and wrapped her arms around him. "It wouldn't be the same if you weren't there -"

He sighed as he was reminded once again there was nothing he wouldn't for her, for them."You two are already almost late - tell you what, I'll get ready and pick you up when it's over, maybe in time for a dance, hmm?"

"Okay." She squeezed him tightly then let him escape from the room.

 

By the time Sherlock arrived at the dance, it was nearly over, the enormous ballroom half empty, and John was leaning against the wall, watching Rosie and Lily dance. It suddenly struck Sherlock how grown up Rosie was, she was only fourteen, but an old fourteen, and he wondered how much of that he was responsible for. John looked up at that moment, and his smile took Sherlock's breath away. It was the smile that told him John loved him, after everything, after all the near-misses and - suddenly he found himself standing in front of John, barely able to breathe or think a coherent thought.

"I didn't think you would make it in time. Rosie told me you would, though, because you said you would."

"May I have this dance?" 

John nodded and stepped forward, sighing as Sherlock drew him into his arms. 

Rosie glanced over Lily's shoulder and caught Sherlock's eye as he turned. She grinned at him, then spun Lily around, just as Sherlock had taught her so many years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry, seem to wallowing in angst again...in this verse, Sherlock was fond of Mary, as only he could be...

"Da?"

"Mmm? Hold on, just a second. There!" Sherlock saved his document, then closed his laptop and turned the full force of his attention on Rosie. She was one of the few people who could withstand his gaze for longer than half a minute.

"Do you know how to dance, you know like, fancy?"

Sherlock blinked at her and cleared his throat, then mumbled, "I do. I did, a long time ago. Why do you ask?"

"Can you teach me, puhl - pwee..." Rosie closed her eyes, then took a deep breath and slowly let it out again. "Please, Da? Like how Papa danced with Mum?" She bit her lip and pulled a crumpled photo from her trouser pocket and opened her hand to show him.

"Ro - where -?" And then Sherlock remembered, it was the one photo he could find to take with him, when he thought he would never see any of them again, would never meet Rosie, never - when he had returned to Baker Street after the fiasco on the tarmac, he had emptied his pockets into the junk drawer in their desk. And he had never opened the drawer again. He carefully lifted the snap from Rosie's hand as if it were a fragile artifact, which, of course it was, an artifact of them, John, Mary and Rosie, barely there, but still present and accounted for. Molly had snapped it, John's profile was a portrait in focused concentration, his eyes closed tightly, biting his lip, while Mary was grinning down at their feet -

"Da - Did I do somethin' - why are you crying?"

Sherlock touched his face, surprised to find it wet, then shook his head. "You didn't do anything wrong, Ro. It's just I haven't, I don't dance anymore. I - " He laid the photo on the desk and picked up the not-so-little girl, and put her in his lap. "I just forgot, I had almost forgotten how much I liked your mum. And I miss her, you are so much like her, it's like she's still with us."

Rosie sat and waited for him as she always did.

"It's that important to you?"

She nodded, and he sighed. "Do you know that I taught your Papa? Well, I can't say that I taught him, because he still can't dance, some people are dancers, and some aren't. Your Papa is very good at lots of stuff - but dancing -"

"Mostly I wanna spin."

"Spin?"

"Kinda like those ice skaters can, but I don't like ice, it's too cold when you fall down, but I want to learn how to spin properly -"

"Like a ballerina?" Sherlock asked as he watched her eyes light up.

"Pleeeease?" Rosie's blonde curls bounced as she nodded happily.

"First, you need a spinning dress, I know you generally loathe dresses, but just trust me on this?" Rosie rolled her eyes but after a second of consideration, nodded again. "And ballet shoes."

"Today? Now, please, Da?"

Sherlock looked at his watch and shrugged. "Your Papa still has a few hours at the clinic, and I know a place -"

 

"Sherlock?"

"Hmmm?" Sherlock opened his eyes and looked down at John, the music had stopped, but they were still dancing, to something he alone could hear.

"Where did you go?"

"Sorry, I - just remembering when Rosie asked me to teach her how to dance." He stopped moving and was about to make a move towards the exit when John laid a hand on Sherlock's chest.

"I always, I used to wond - never mind."

"John?" Sherlock covered John's hand with his, and he felt a tremor run through both of them.

"I used to wonder if I had just kissed you once, during those lessons - if I had just -"

"Don't. You don't want me to answer that question, John." Sherlock closed his eyes as he heard his own voice break slightly.

"Sher-"

Sherlock shook his head, then smiled sadly at John. "It's getting late - Ro? Can we drop Lily at home?" He looked back down at John who was still watching him. "Don't. We've never really talked about - we didn't talk much back then. We're okay, John. Aren't we?"

"Yeah, we are. Course we are, though, there are days, when I wish I had married you that day."

Sherlock flinched then grabbed John's hand, and made towards the door. "Come on, girls, the bus is leaving."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knee deep in angst this week...my apologies...they will be fine, promise

Busy? - JHW

Sherlock looked down at his phone, and smirked as he noted that John had added the 'H' to his text signature, then sighed as he looked at the time. Eight in the evening, he'd been in bed all day again. John would have just returned home from work, or was on his way home from work. To his and Mary's home, their home.

Nope. - SH

Can I come up? - JHW

Sherlock threw the covers off and threw on his trousers before going to the window. John was out there staring up at their windows. Damn. At least he'd shaved yesterday. Since all of the wedding plans had been completed, he'd seen little of John and Mary. He'd been tweaking the waltz for their first dance, he'd wanted it to be a surprise, but Mary had been going through songs for their first dance and he'd actually had to ask permission to give John, them, his wedding gift. Breathe. What did John want from him now, a week before the wedding?

Give me five minutes? - SH

No need to tidy up for me. - JHW

Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back to his bedroom, took off his dressing gown and went to his closet. At least he could fake it for a few minutes, if he put on a clean shirt. He considered sitting on his bed again, but it would be too easy to go back to sleep, so he glared at his rumpled sheets with a twinge of regret and stalked from the room, closing the door behind him, and went to make tea.

 

"Da? Is it okay if I sleep over at Lily's?"

Sherlock looked over at John who was staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts. "Sure, Ro, it's fine, as long as it's okay with her parents." The girls squealed happily and began plotting the rest of their evening. Sherlock started the car and tried to shake off the memories that he thought he had long buried. They dropped the girls off with a wave, then made their way back to Baker Street in silence. John walked up the steps slowly and Sherlock paused before following him. They had never really talked about all of this, so many things had happened, so many years had passed, Mary was long dead, long forgiven, her ghost had stopped haunting him when John and Rosie had moved in, so why now?

"I just forgot, we're out of milk and Rosie needs - something or other - I'll be back in a bit, do you want anything?"

John shook his head and continued up the steps to their flat. Even after all this time, there were moments when Sherlock had to remind himself that this was their home; his, John's and Rosie's. They were a family, his family, even after everything.

"I'll get you some of that ice cream you like, that ridiculous chocolate thing?"

John turned before he put his key in the lock and smiled down at him. "I'll get changed out of this thing, and we can talk when you get back, if you want - ice cream sounds good, thank you, love."

Sherlock nodded at him, then went back out into the night, closing the door behind him.

 

"You want me to teach you how to -"

"Dance. You said the music you were composing was a waltz, I don't know a waltz from -"

"Mary know?"

"Does Mary know what? That I can't dance my way into or out of any kind of bag?" John grinned at him and Sherlock wondered if John could see his heart pounding through his shirt; he vaguely wondered if there was any way he could handle wearing his coat in this ridiculous heat wave. John must have seen something in his face, because he turned away sharply and shook his head. "She doesn't know I'm here. Told her I was meeting mates at the pub - no, I don't know why I didn't tell her I was coming over here, she keeps telling me I should invite you over for dinner more, or check up - damn, I'm mucking this up."

Sherlock shrugged and switched on the recording he had made earlier in the week, still not quite right, but close enough for a dance lesson. John cleared his throat as if to speak, then shook his head again and turned to face Sherlock, they both stood there in silence as the short piece played through once, then Mrs. Hudson's voice was heard, 'Woo-hooo, Sherl- oh -" before the recording stopped with a sharp click. 

"It's -"

"Not quite perfect yet - I just wanted to -"

"beautiful, it's just right. It's more than I -"

"You deserve to be happy John, I want - all I have ever wanted was your happiness."

John pinched the bridge of his nose then sighed and looked up at him. "Not sure I know how to do that. Be happy. Thought I was - never mind."

 

Sherlock walked into the store, and blinked against the bright lights, wondering how John spent so much time in these places. He had learned to go to the shops more often; well, once in a while, when he happened to be out, or John was under the weather, over the years, but he still found himself still overwhelmed by all of the rows of stuff, all the things that people seemed to need all the time.

 

Biscuits are in Aisle 4, don't get too many packets, Rosie always finds them no matter where you hide them - J

I do know where the biscuits are. - S

Nearly out of tea, too. - J

And pickles, don't know how you two eat so many. - J

I'll be home soon. - S

I know. I'm sorry. Should've bought a new suit. - J

It's okay. - S

It's not, wasn't thinking. I thought it was just a suit. Stupid. - J

It's the triple chocolate, right? - S

Right. - J

On my way. - S

 

"You do realise you will have to be closer to me than that for this to work." Sherlock tried to smile at John who had moved closer to him, but was still not within dancing parameters.

"Right."

"You will have to touch me, unless you know of a way to waltz that doesn't involve touching your partner?" 

"Yeah. Maybe this wasn't a good idea -" John turned as if getting ready to leave, but Sherlock moved faster than he thought possible.

"I have tea. I mean, I made tea. I know it's insanely hot, but -"

John stopped and stared at him. "You made tea."

"I wasn't sure why you had come over, I put on the kettle, and got out the mugs - it's probably cold by now -"

"You made tea."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but nodded.

John moved to his chair and sat down, and Sherlock went to get the mugs from the kitchen. Somehow there was even a fresh pint of milk in the fridge. He didn't remember buying it, perhaps Mrs. H had - he opened it and sniffed it cautiously, seemed fine. He added the tiniest splash to John's and dumped his normal four spoonfuls of sugar into his tea and returned to the lounge.

 

"That night I -"

Sherlock thought about making a big bowl of ice cream, but it seemed to him that they were about to have a discussion that could outlast the rather small looking pint of triple chocolate he was holding and just grabbed two spoons instead. He sat down next to John on the couch and handed him the open container and a spoon.

"If you had asked me to change my mind, or stay, or anything. I would have, Sherlock. But instead, you made me tea, and you got out your violin and played the waltz for me, and I watched you. I watched you and heard you. I heard everything you had been saying to me, since the day we had met. And still you let me go home after that first lesson, and I went. I didn't even know, we hadn't known about Rosie yet, and still you made me go back to her. I could feel how you held me that it was the last thing you wanted, and yet -"

"I thought I had lost my chance. I never knew I had a chance with you until that night, John. But, I thought - I was barely holding myself together then, I wasn't any good for myself, together, the two of us, we would have been a disaster, John. But, Mary, I thought Mary could make you happy, give you what I had thought you had always wanted. It didn't matter what I wanted, or what I had dreamed of when I had been away, I lost the right to ask anything of you, from you, when I made you watch - when I made you grieve for me..." 

He took the carton of ice cream and spoon out of John's trembling hands. "I've never truly apologized, not really, John. I wasn't ready to tell you, I couldn't show you what I couldn't tell you, I was still numb, it didn't hit me until the night of the wedding, when - I - lost. Everything. I lost everything that evening, John. I had thought I knew what rock bottom was. Thought I'd been there, done that. Wasn't even close. Because when I had overdosed years ago, in my twenties, I had never loved anyone before, I was doing drugs because I was bored, plain and simple. When I saw your face change as I told you - when you knew you were going to be a father, finally have a family, and then she danced you away, I felt my heart shatter, honestly that's the only way I can explain how it felt. That night I went and found Billy. I tried, I honestly tried, John - but he wouldn't let me have enough. It wasn't nearly enough; he gave me a place to sleep, and let me stay there for a few days. Then I came back here, got cleaned up enough to get the case -"

John whispered brokenly, "Then Janine -"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Even now? John - I swear - nothing ever happened. NOTHING. I've never, ever had any interest in any woman, not in that way; she was a way to get to Magnussen, and I admit, she was interesting, unusual. And yes, I may have wanted to see if I could make you the tiniest bit jealous. But she was simply a means to an end, I had to get rid of him, even before I knew about Mary. And I should have known, John. I should have known when I met her. But, I, wanted - I hoped, I had hoped she would be enough for you, because I never thought I could be that for you."

John reached out then, and held Sherlock's face in his hands, waiting for Sherlock to look at him. "Sherlock. Please? May I have this dance?"

Sherlock snorted and finally met John's eyes. "There isn't any music playing, John."

"I can't really dance, so does it really matter all that much? Please, just dance with me."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and going extra squishy...

Sherlock was rubbing his eyes and yawning over the microscope as Rosie arrived home, bright eyed, if in need of a nap. She dropped her bag and heels by the couch and fell into it.

"You and Papa-"

"Hmm?"

"You two looked brilliant last night. Just wanted to tell you that." Sherlock got up and wandered over to the couch and knelt down next to her. "Why is it -"

"Why what?"

"I always wondered why you and Papa never got married."

"Truth?"

Rosie nodded and after a long moment, he hesitated before finally mumbling, "Truth is, he's never asked. And I, I figured, after the first go round, he wouldn't -"

"I wouldn't what?" John whispered at his ear.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Rosie, who couldn't help but smother a giggle.

"How do you do that?" Sherlock groused good naturedly as John's arms wrapped around him.

"My specialised military ninja training."

"Rather unfair." Sherlock pouted.

"Answer the question."

"Question?"

"What wouldn't I want?"

"To get married again."

John's breath hitched, but he recovered quickly. "Is that something you would want?"

Sherlock shrugged but said nothing.

John looked over at Rosie who rolled her eyes at him, as if telling him to get on with it. He stuck out his tongue at her and she snorted. 

"I'm going to bed. Night, night." She picked up her bag and shoes and kissed the top of John's head.

"Night, love." John muttered.

He spun Sherlock in his arms and held him tightly. "Honestly, do you want to, Sherlock? Do you want to get married? I just thought you still thought it -"

"Archaic, overly romantic nonsense -

"Uhmhmm..."

Sherlock opened his eyes and glared at him. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why would you want to go through that again? You made vows to her, promises - I've never needed that of you, never asked that of you. I knew when you came back here - with Rosie, to stay, that you wouldn't leave me again. That's always been enough for me. Do you need me to -"

John shook his head. He threaded his fingers through Sherlock's tangled curls, then kissed the tip of his nose. "I've never needed more than what we have, this, with you and Rosie. I don't need to wear your ring to know you are my family, my heart, my reason, my - damn, don't you know you are my world? You gave me - you give me - just - "

"Everything. You are -" Sherlock reached up and wiped the tear from John's cheek.

John nodded. "Everything."


End file.
